Banned from Argo
by LKalomi
Summary: There's a planet Argo in this timeline too, and all sorts of ways to get in trouble there...
1. In Which the Havoc begins

Title: Banned from Argo

Warnings (this chapter): general insanity which is not my fault.

Summary: There's a planet Argo in this timeline too, and all sorts of ways to get in trouble there...

Author's notes: I have committed a terrible sin. I have taken that infamous TOS filk song, "Banned from Argo" by Leslie Fish, and I have expanded upon it in the reboot universe. Just so you know, the plot is the major characters getting into weird, hilarious trouble while on shore leave. And that, really, is about it. You have been warned.

* * *

Verse One

When we pulled into Argo Port in need of R&R,  
The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.  
We had high expectations of their hospitality,  
But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we.

Yes, I was there when the _Enterprise_ made its first, and thankfully last, stop at Argo. You've all heard the stories about the havoc they wrought in the city, but I'll bet you've never stopped to consider what happened at the beaming station. It was the busy season on Argo (don't ask me why there's more tourism during certain months of an environment where Terran climate cycles are irrelevant, but that's how it is.) Of course we had anticipated the rush of traffic, opened up the extra wing of transporter pads that lie dormant most of the time, and hired a gaggle of temporary workers. Even that wasn't enough, because apparently fate was against us that week. The tourists were out in full force, having gotten over the space-fright of the last few years. A merchant fleet, several dozen craft and a couple thousand crewbeings strong, came in for repairs, and naturally had to land most of their crew. And on the day that most of them were coming through and being processed as fast as we could go, the _Enterprise_ just had to dock at the orbiting station, and put in for the transport of virtually all of _its_ crew. This is the sort of situation the employees of beaming stations have nightmares about.

The sheer number of people was bad enough, but the shore-leave-hyped Starfleeters seemed determined to disrupt everything they could. Now, we get tourists that are pretty uncooperative, but generally tourists don't come in groups of fifty. The semblance of military discipline and unity imposed by the security chief (whom I swear was the only level-headed one of the lot, apart from the Vulcan) worked both ways - this was a bunch of hyperactive tourists that could unto itself generate an impromptu softball game in the central hall. And you really don't want to know what the poor customs checkers found in their baggage and had to deal with. There are still escaped Garovven mice living in our walls, the floor is oddly dented where a lead ball was dropped (don't ask), and that one desk is still slightly blue.

* * *

Chorus:  
And we're banned from Argo, everyone.  
Banned from Argo, just for having a little fun.  
We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,  
But Argo doesn't want us any more.

Travis Ndela (lieutenant governor's assistant) turned from the window, where he'd been watching the red, blue, and gold flood as it fanned out from the beaming station.

"Harry, I bet you before they leave by themselves, we have to intervene."

Harry (lieutenant governor's assistant's secretary) chuckled. "Travis, you pessimist! We've had starship crews before; what's different about this one?"

Travis assumed an expression of mock indignation. "'What's different,' you ask? This is the _Enterprise_. They don't do anything by halves - not saving the world, not overrunning Argo."

"Point taken, but so is your bet. They can't be that bad."


	2. Kirk's Story

Title: Banned from Argo

Warnings (this chapter): sexual implications, general insanity which is not my fault.

Summary: There's a planet Argo in this timeline too, and all sorts of ways to get in trouble there...

* * *

The Captain's tastes were simple, but his methods were complex.  
We found him with five partners, each of a different world and sex.  
The Shore Police were on the way, we had no second chance.  
We beamed him up in the nick of time - and the remnants of his pants.

I spot him the moment the group comes in the door - loudly cheerful as if he's already been to at least one bar, and sporting a number of bruises on his face. You work in this business long enough, you get a kind of sixth sense about who's going to be trouble. The other gold-shirts I peg as "rowdy but not too bad," but that captain - sheesh. He's positively flaunting every little thing that tells me "this guy's going to make an impressive nuisance of himself" - already drunk, already been in a fight, confident, grinning at everything female and a number that weren't, ordering drinks like he owned the place, creatures of assorted genders draping themselves over him... I roll my eyes and quietly estimate how long it would be before he left with one of them - and am proven spectacularly wrong.

An hour later, there's an Orion sorta-female practically in his lap, a human (or close enough) girl sitting on the back of his chair with her legs over his shoulders, and a bunch of others crowded 'round, and he's apparently just getting warmed up.

"Tha's right, ladies, an' I single-handedly defeated the creature." Admiring gasp from the audience. "Yeah, wasn' easy. Those things jus' sorta twitch if ya shoot 'em with a phaser; they're real hard to wrestle with, too - all those teeth, and the poison claws." Another gasp, scattered applause. "Yep, never let anyone tell ya tribbles are innocus - incuous - harmless, ladies. Those things ya see in the vids're really just bred down, y'know - like a Chihuahua from a timber wolf." He growls and mock-bites at an Andorian second-female who's insinuated her way in beside the Orion. Giggles, exclamations of "Oh, you brave man!" and similar

Three similar stories later, he sets his many-times-refilled drink on the counter, dislodges the hangers-on, and tries to get to his feet. "Ooooh, the floor's a bit weird, I see. Hey, you!"

"Yes, Captain Kirk?" May as well be polite to the guy - you never know what he'll remember the next morning.

"The name's Jim, y'know, or Jimmy. Um, about your floor, you might wanna get it straightened out - 's kinda wobbly." He wavers, and (obviously intentionally) leans heavily against a Tavrian beauty. "Oh, sorry, ma'am, didn't see you there. You, ah, _coming along_?" He gestures vaguely at the assortment behind him with a leer.

"Of course, captain, wouldn't miss it for the world." Most of the group dissipates to other men as he makes his way off to the door, but those which stay appear to be the human woman, the Orion female (or the more female of their sexes, rather), the Andorian second-female, the hermaphroditic Tavrian, and something that resembles a male Kaator. Figures he'd wind up with that kind of entourage.

* * *

"Hello, this's Sergeant Anderson speaking, how may I help you?"

"I'm calling to report a disturbance in the apartment next door." Thump, moan.

"All right, what kind of disturbance?"

"Well, the woman who lives there brought home a bunch of, ah, friends. And they're getting kind of, y'know, wild." Crash, squeak of bedsprings.

"Ah, yes, I can hear it from here. Okay, we'll send over an officer to, er, break it up. Your address, please?"

* * *

People don't think I'm sentient, you know. It's really a shame; I see so much, and I could tell some very interesting stories. Like last week, my owner came home with five walkers - which isn't unusual for her, mind you, but generally they're not such an interesting assortment. The Orion and the Tavrian I knew - they come over all the time - but this particular Kaator I'd never seen before, and I'd never seen an Andorian second-female at all - a sad gap in my education, I know.

The human man, the centerpiece of this whole affair, now he was something special. I've seen his face on the holoscreen lots of times - got the impression he lives far away, and is important to the humans and the other walkers. They were all very excited to have him there, and he seemed willing to get tangled up with them - why walkers like to contort themselves that way I'll never really understand, but they seem to love it.

Everything was going about as normal - these things tend to run together when your owner orchestrates these kinds of tanglings-up every other night - when someone started pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. The man clambered out from under the Orion and the Kaator, and fumbled with something I knew was a communicator - my owner's brought home Starfleeters before, I've seen these things.

"Kyle, y'there?"

"Yessir, what's the matter?"

"Y'gotta get me outta 'ere, they're comin' in."

"Um, yessir, right away, sir."

The door broke right about then, and two walkers burst in and abruptly stopped. Their upper parts turned a very interesting color of red, and they stood like trees long enough for the man to vanish into the swirly transporter thing.

Chorus:  
And we're banned from Argo, everyone.  
Banned from Argo, just for having a little fun.  
We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,  
But Argo doesn't want us any more.


End file.
